


in the quiet of the night

by AnonymousPuzzler



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Comfort, Families of Choice, Multi, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Relationship Study, other BoB characters mentioned but not directly featured, rating is for some innuendo/implied sexy business, some depictions of panic attacks/dissociation, spoilers through The Stolen Century for obvious reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11186643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousPuzzler/pseuds/AnonymousPuzzler
Summary: Elves don't need to sleep, so Taako sits awake in the long hours of the night. It turns out, those quiet hours are more full than he'd ever realized.





	in the quiet of the night

**Author's Note:**

> apparently I have found my niche in TAZ writing and it is In-Depth Super Sappy Explorations of Found Family Relationships. I have no regrets
> 
> I suppose you can consider this a sequel-slash-companion piece to Commitment Issues? I probably ought to just make a series if I continue writing post-canon stuff like this, but for now I hope you guys enjoy this one!!

Elves don’t need to sleep. That was fairly common knowledge.

What was less common knowledge was that, more often than not, they did anyways - getting through the day on four hours of meditation was great, sure, but sleep was quicker and easier, and it wasn’t like there was a heck of a lot going on in the dead of night anyway. At least, that had always been Taako’s thinking, a half-assed explanation as to why he chose to sleep well into the morning on most days.

Now, though - now years had passed and he was older, perhaps wiser, definitely changed. And, increasingly, he has chosen to forgo his usual lengthy beauty rest in favor of a few short hours of mediation each night. More often than not, he squeezes it in right after dinner, gathering himself on the loveseat by the window and slipping away into his meditative trance, letting the gentle background noise of Kravitz and Angus doing dishes and practicing magic and fiddling with the piano carry him away. Then he would snap awake, fully refreshed, just as his boys were on the verge of dozing off themselves; and he would tuck Angus into bed, and coax Kravitz into a bubble bath, and lie in bed chatting idly with his husband until the reaper succumbed to slumber.

And then he would simply sit there, Kravitz asleep at his side, through the quiet of the night.

As it turned out, there was much he’d missed sleeping through those evening hours.

 

* * *

 

At just past midnight, his stone of farspeech glows with an incoming call.

“Talk-o to Taako,” he opens with, and the voice on the other end immediately bursts into uproarious laughter, as if it’s the funniest thing they’ve heard in weeks. Taako can’t help but smirk. “Hello to you, too, Maggie. What’s crackalackin’?”

The fighter gradually brings himself down from his fit of chuckles, wheezing for air once or twice. “Ha, nothin’ much,” he finally replies, a smile still evident in his voice.

“Callin’ pretty late,” Taako observes idly. Suddenly there’s a short, sharp, almost tangible silence, and the elf feels his stomach do a flip that is less than sweet.

“Y-yeah, yeah, I guess,” Magnus finally stammers into his stone, and Taako can practically see him nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, I’m workin’ on a carpentry project and- you, uh, you get how it is, I just got really into it, lost track of time…”

Maggie’s as bad a liar as he’s ever been. Something or other’s upset him, is bothering him enough to keep him awake and calling whoever he thought might still be up. He quickly elects not to dwell on this, not to tackle it directly; Magnus had called _Taako_ , after all, and Taako doesn’t _do_ emotional conversations and thoughtful comfort, and they are both aware of this. If he’s calling him, that means, to some extent, he’s not ready to talk it out. No, Taako’s game is _distraction_ , and if Magnus is contacting him in this state, then that’s what he needs right now.

“Hmm, sounds lame, but, uh, lame in a very _Maggie_ way. So what’cha building over there, big guy? Anything cool enough for me to come check out, and-or steal?” Magnus barks with laughter in response, and Taako can’t help but crack a victorious grin.

Sure enough, Magnus immediately starts babbling on, catching Taako up on what must be months of missed happenings. Chattering about the new carpentry-slash-adventuring business, and all the duck carvings and really neat chairs he’s made recently, and how he and Avi teamed up to construct some killer battlewagons. About visiting Killian and Carey at their new place down near Hogsbottom a few weeks back, and how they’re fostering a bunch of really sweet kids, and how Carey’s brother and his wife stopped by and boy is her niece getting so big now. About a really neat dog he saw the other day, a story he covers with immense time and detail.

None of it is Taako’s speed, but Magnus’ voice is swelling with enthusiasm and pride with each and every word. So he rides it out, listening patiently, and only occasionally interjects with something smarmy and sarcastic, and only because he knows Magnus will definitely laugh when he does.

Magnus laughs a lot during their long conversation. In fact, it’s nearly one in the morning by the time yawns begin to interrupt his stories, and after some ribbing from Taako, he finally submits to the need for slumber and insists he’ll call the elf back in the morning.

There’s still a smile in his tone as he bids Taako goodnight, and he can’t help but feel a little bit proud of that.

 

* * *

 

At just before two in the morning, Kravitz stirs.

It’s slight, imperceptible at first - Kravitz sleeps like the dead in more ways than one, so it’s easy for Taako to borderline forget he’s beside him in their shared bed - but then his hand jerks against the elf’s thigh and a sharp, loud breath hisses through his nose. Taako starts, drops the book he’d been levitating in front of him, and waits, frozen with rapt attention. He’s never certain when he should intervene in these situations. If it’s better for him to let Kravitz fight it off himself, or wake him up the minute he sees the start of nightmares cross his features.

By the time Kravitz is curling in on himself, teeth bared, eyes shut tight, a whimpered breath shuddering out of him, Taako can’t bear to watch anymore. He grips the reaper’s shoulder tightly in one hand, cradling his cheek with the other, and shakes him, mumbling, “Wake up, Kravvy, please, wake up now. It’s not real, honey, it’s a dream, I promise, please-”

Kravitz flinches, hand sharply seizing Taako’s wrist, and jolts upright with a shout.

The first time it had happened, Taako had recoiled, frightened, practically falling off the bed in his instinct to retreat. Now, he barely even blinks, doesn’t so much as move his hands. Kravitz is more frightened than he is, and even in his deepest panic, Taako knows he could never do anything to hurt him. Taako has been with enough people who could, would, _had_ hurt him to know the difference.

He runs his thumb over his husband’s cheek, the hand on his shoulder slipping over to rub his back, soothing him through his labored breaths. “Nothing’s here to hurt you, Kravvy, nothing’s here, I promise,” he murmurs, pulling every possible ounce of tenderness into his tone, staring deep into the reaper’s eyes. The soul-fire within seems to shudder, not quite focusing, still trying to make the leap between nightmare and reality. “We’re on Faerün. We’re in our house. There’s no liches, no warlocks, the Hunger’s gone. We’re totally safe now. You remember that, honey?”

Kravitz blinks at him a long few moments, breath still irregular and heavy, a hand moving up to grasp at Taako’s over his cheek. Then he nods, and then he sobs, and Taako draws him in closer.

He couldn’t quite remember a life without his own night terrors. In his time in Faerün, they’d seemed inexplicably ever-present (though the _Sizzle it Up!_ Incident had certainly increased their frequency and severity). Later, when his earlier memories were returned to him, he’d remembered the start of them somewhere in his adolescence; years on the road, among crooks, in the arms of backstabbing lovers, it had all left him paranoid even in slumber. At least back then, he’d had Lup around to talk him down when they got bad, to restrain his hands so he didn’t claw up his face, to remind him that someone was always watching his back.

In retrospect, he wanted to thank and apologize to her a million times over, because fuck was it _terrifying_ and _heartbreaking_ watching the night terrors emerge in Kravitz. Years under the Raven Queen’s service had desensitized him to much, but that was because Kravitz thrived under order - and, morbid as it was, death was all about order. In a way, he’d told Taako once, it was comforting to know that all creatures would eventually die, and return to the Raven Queen’s embrace in the Astral Plane. To know there was a peaceful finality waiting at the end of life, regardless of the difficulties encountered along the way.

But then the Hunger had reached their plane, and all of that had been stripped from Kravitz before his very eyes. The Astral Plane ravaged of souls, the Raven Queen cut off from him, the seas growing stormy and trying to drag him under, the Hunger itself vying to assimilate him, to destroy his remaining soul. There was no peaceful finality if the Hunger claimed him. Only a terrifying, horrific unknown that still haunted his dreams.

Trapped, alone, abandoned, _erased_. Taako could understand why the whole situation brought the night terrors on.

“Taako,” Kravitz chokes through a sob, trembling, the very construct of his flesh-body seeming to flicker like a faulty transmission. The wizard holds him close in reply, drawing him into his lap, tracing soothing circles into his back, face pressed into the crown of his head.

“I’m here, sweetcheeks, I’m right here,” Taako all but coos. He feels Kravitz wrapping his arms tight around him, practically crushing, and settles into the hug with practiced ease. “That’s right, it’s me, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. _You’re_ not going anywhere. All right?”

Another shuddering breath, and then a nod against his shoulder, Kravitz huddling his face against the curve of Taako’s neck. “I love you,” he says, practically in a whisper.

“I love you too.” The response is automatic, unpracticed; in these moments of comfort, of vulnerability, he doesn’t quite have his practiced comedic edge. There’s no witty comebacks, no dry remarks, not now. Not until the worst of this has passed.

They stay like this, tangled together, silent but for occasional murmurs of reassurance and affection, until Kravitz’s breathing finally evens and he manages to drift back off in his husband’s arms.

 

* * *

 

At just past three in the morning, the door to Taako’s room creaks open.

It’s just a smidge, barely enough to make a sound - if Taako were a less perceptive elf, he might not have noticed at all. But he does, and he is smarter than he likes to let on, so he figures out the cause in record time.

He dog-ears the current page of his book and lets it levitate over to the side-table, turning his full attention to the doorway. “Come on in, then,” he calls out, trying to sound just put-upon enough to upkeep his image, but not enough to make his visitor think he was _actually_ that upset.

There’s a long stretch of silence, but after a few moments, the door creaks open a few more inches, and Angus McDonald creeps in.

Despite himself, Taako feels his posture visibly soften. In the soft glow of moonlight through the curtains, Angus just looks so small, so _vulnerable._ His dark curls are a mess, he’s wearing ratty old pajama pants that he insists are “still as good as new, sir!” and an oversized Battlefest t-shirt gifted from Magnus, and behind his coke-bottle glasses Taako can spot trails of dried tears.

He sighs through his nose, more just resigned than irritated, and holds out his arms in offering. Angus hesitates, glancing between his mentor and his own feet (on which are the multicolored, fuzzy socks Taako had insisted on gifting him last Candlenights), toying with the hem of his t-shirt. Then he finally relents, scrambling onto the bed and straight into Taako’s hold.

He embraces the boy gently, letting him settle into his lap, trying to make sure his embrace is tight enough to be reassuring but loose enough that Angus can easily leave if he wants. Once the boy seems comfortable, curled up against Taako’s chest with his arms around his waist, the wizard draws the blankets up around him and gently removes his glasses, levitating them over to rest on top of his book. He hears Angus sniffle lightly, and wordlessly, he runs his slender fingers through his curls in reply.

It’s too easy for them all to forget that Angus is still a boy. He’s wise and capable beyond his years, and has been through so much with the rest of the group, that most of them more or less regard him as an equal peer. But he _is_ still a little boy, no matter how mature he may act, and a little boy could not be expected to shrug off all the things that had happened to and around Angus.

He has nightmares. More so than a boy his age should. Taako hears bits and pieces of some of them, on the rare occasions Angus is willing to discuss them - tidbits about criminals he’d busted hunting him down, or the Hunger reemerging and attacking his new friends while he stood helpless, or of waking up in his childhood home and finding everything about the Bureau was only a dream. For the most part, Taako simply listens, not trying to offer any stupid advice or reassurance or anything like that. Angus is smart enough that any advice he could offer, he’d know it himself already, or simply find it condescending. But he can still listen, and Angus seems to appreciate that, even if they never say those kind of things out loud to each other.

“It was the Hunger again tonight,” Angus mumbles against his chest. Apparently, tonight is a Talking About It night, and Taako does his best not to let on how relieved that makes him.

He nods instead, slow and lazy, playing it cool. “Krav, too,” he mumbles, and he sees Angus steal a glimpse at the reaper - who’d fallen back asleep with his cheek pressed against Taako’s thigh; apparently the wizard’s lap was just prime real estate tonight - and nod thoughtfully. If he had to hazard a guess, he’d say Angus is probably reassured that a being as powerful as Kravitz is having the same nightmares he is.

Angus sniffs again, settling back against Taako’s chest, and the elf runs a hand lightly up and down his back, hoping to soothe him back to sleep. When the boy doesn’t so much as look like he’s getting drowsy, the elf pauses a moment, hesitates, and then begins what has become a ritual for them in recent months.

“ _Kuluma_ ,” he murmurs into the night, a long-forgotten accent emerging on his tongue, continuing to draw lazy circles across Angus’ back. Sure enough, the boy blinks up at him as the Elvish begins to slip from his lips, already visibly calmer. “ _Salpua, umai, cath, iriador…_ ”

Angus is still decidedly early in his studies of Elvish, so as far as he knows, Taako is regaling him with an epic poem, or a philosophical saying, or words for a spell he will one day learn. Someday, Angus will be older, and impossibly smarter, and probably speaking better fuckin’ Elvish than Taako, and when that day comes, he will probably be disappointed to realize his mentor is essentially spouting utter nonsense to him. _Orange, bowl, oven, cat, ruby._

When he realizes the truth, Taako realizes with chagrin, he’s going to be forced to tell Angus the second, even more secret truth. That all this time he hasn’t been patronizing the boy with stupid nonsense words. That this is what he and Lup used to do during their loneliest, most hopeless nights on the road, on the Starblaster, when all they had was the emptiness of the evening and each other. Murmuring whatever Elvish they’d retained from parents they barely remembered, a grandfather whose name they’d forgotten, an aunt they loved but could never go back to. _Tankla, amir, laire, seler’, toror’. Brooch, necklace, summer, sister, brother._ Whispering the words to each other in the dead of night until the tears, the loneliness, the heartache finally left them.

For now, he murmurs them to his apprentice, his boy, his- fuck it, his _son_ , watching as Angus stares up at him, reverent, right up to the very moment his eyes finally flutter closed once more.

 

* * *

 

At exactly 3:42 AM, Taako’s stone of farspeech lights up with another incoming call.

“Go back to sleep, Maggie,” he grumbles into it by way of greeting. He steals a glance at each of his sleeping boys - Kravitz at his right, Angus at his left - to ensure the sound of his voice didn’t wake them, and settles when neither of them stirs.

There’s silence for a moment, and he thinks maybe Magnus has been properly cowed back into taking care of himself. “...I, um. Sorry to, um, disappoint? I guess? But I’m, uh, I’m not Magnus.”

Taako blinks in surprise, finding himself instinctively sitting upright. “Yeah, you’re sure as shit not. The fuck’s up, Lucretia?” Despite the recovered memories and plenty of time rebuilding their former friendship, her name still sounds _off_ on his tongue. To some part of him, she’s still _Madame Director_ , probably always will be. Hard habit to break.

He hears her clear her throat, a nervous sound. “Well, I, um. Well. First and foremost, I really hope I’m not waking you-”

“Elves don’t sleep.”

“Well, _you_ do.” There’s a hint of a smirk in her voice, of playful teasing, and he feels himself relaxing in turn.

“Yeah, guess that does track. Not tonight, though, got my meditation outta the way so ch’a boy’s feelin’ fresh as a fuckin’ daisy. For real, though, what’s up? You got, uh, you got some kinda urgent job for us? Need me to round up the gang?”

“No, no, nothing like that. Things have been pretty quiet on that front. This, is, um- I, uh-” She hesitates another moment or two more, Taako’s ears tilting with concern as he tries to figure out why. Finally, quiet and reluctant, she murmurs, “I guess I was just… feeling a bit lonely.”

Taako’s ears and heart drop at approximately the same time. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m, um, I’m sorry to have bothered you so late. I’ll, just, uh- I’ll let you go-”

“No, no  _no!_ ” The words come out of him automatically, and he’s sure she’s as surprised as he is, if not more so. “Lucretia, Luce, it’s- don’t even worry about it, all right? Like- I get it, bubula, sometimes you just get _overcome_ with the urge to talk to the infamous Taako Tacco, as seen on TV, in all his fuckin’ glory. It happens.”

Lucretia laughs, and he does too, though he’s certain the edge to his is audible. This is _not_ his area of expertise, being the friend people go to when they want _comfort_. He’s the jokes friend, the witty banter friend, the one you go to for a good time when things are going well, or for some cheap thrills when things aren’t. He’s not the one people _talk it out_ with.

There’s a few seconds too long of dead air. He clears his throat, painfully aware of how much he’s already floundering. “So, like, uh- isn’t, uh, isn’t Davenport around…? For you to, like, hang with or whatever? Like, last I heard, that institute y’all are workin’ for gave the two of you this big fancy-ass place to chill out in-”

“Yes, I, um, he’s been away on business,” she excuses clumsily, though Taako can’t fathom _why_ she’d have to excuse his absence. “He, you know, they have him going all over to do lectures and whatnot while I’m mostly back at the actual campus handling records…” A sigh, some rustling as her stone of farspeech is shifted between hands, and then, “I’m- I’m sorry, Taako. I- I’m clearly bothering you and I shouldn’t be calling people up in the middle of the night like this and-”

“Hey hey hey hey _hey_ . No, it’s not-” He releases a sigh of his own, running a hand back through his long hair, biting his lip. “Fuck. Lucy, I don’t- you’re not _bothering_ me. Don’t be stupid. I just- I-I’m no good at this stuff. You know that. I- I don’t wanna make some kinda dumb douchey crack that makes you feel even _shittier_. That’s- that’s all. We’re-” oh, _fuck_ , here it comes, his least favorite part. The _honesty_. “We’re friends, Lucy. _Good_ friends. We’re- _ugh_ , alright, fuck this, I’m only gonna say this once so listen up - we’re _family_. You- you can call me any fuckin’ time of night, okay?”

Silence. Then he hears her release a breath, long and slow. “I- yes. I… I guess I forget that, sometimes.” A low chuckle, then, “Thanks, Taako.”

He feels the tension in his shoulders release, ease returning to his body. “You fuckin’ know it, Luce.” He pauses a moment, letting the moment of calm land, then adds, “And if you’re so fucking lonely, you oughta make those snooty intellectual chucklefucks give you a day off so you can come out here and visit already. Seriously, Agnes asks about you _all_ the fuckin’ time, it’s a pain in the ass. Least you can do is swing by and save me from that.”

She laughs, abrupt and unabashed in a way he feels he hasn’t heard since the Starblaster. “Oh, I don’t know,” she teases through a giggle, suddenly full of mischief. (It reminds him of when they first really became friends, of when he first started getting glimpses of her past the wall of introversion and seeing the _clever little shit_ within. Getting her on board with some of his pranks was difficult, but when he managed it, the two of them were fuckin’ _unstoppable_.) “What’s in it for me if I _do_ stop by? Right now it sounds like you’d be the only one benefiting.”

“I’ll make the stupid macaroons you like, fuck you.”

Another peal of laughter. “All right, deal. Those are some bomb-ass cookies.”

“Damn straight they are, Lucy.”

The two of them chat well into the night, and it’s only when she finally wraps things up and bids him farewell that it hits him how much he really has missed her.

 

* * *

 

Sometime after four in the morning, the stone of farspeech glows to life again. This time, he doesn’t even get a greeting in before frantic breaths pour out of the stone, and he snaps upright in panicked recognition.

“Lulu?” His ears are practically skywards, swiveling nervously, and he stares down at the stone as if doing so would explain what was happening.

The quick, hysteric breaths continue for another long, painful moment, then they’re interrupted by a choked sob. “Taako,” a familiar voice whimpers, trembling, pressing a dagger into his heart in the process.

“Yeah, Lulu, it’s me. It’s Taako, it’s your brother, I’m here. Talk to me, okay?” He’s clutching the stone like a lifeline in both hands now, wishing with all his heart he could just _be there_ instead of stuck on a stupid stone call.

“Taako,” she says again, louder, more desperate, still shaky. A few more breaths, a few more sobs, and then, “Taako, it’s so _dark_.”

“I know. I know it is, bubula, but I promise, everything is okay. Is Barry there?” Not that he’s not cool talking his sister down on his own, but Barry _would_ be an invaluable help. She could use a physical hand to help her right now, to allow her to anchor herself again.

More shuddering breaths, growing louder and softer as they move closer and farther from her stone. He gets the impression she’s looking around, probably frantically. “I- he’s not moving,” she finally reports. “Taako- he’s so _still_ , Taako--”

“I hear you, Lulu, I hear you. I’m gonna have you check if he’s breathing, okay?”

“I _can’t_.”

“You can, bubula, I promise. I _promise_ you can. I’m gonna walk you through it, all right? Ol’ Taako’s gonna get you through this.” He hears her frantic breathing again, but it seems to be slowing slightly, so that’s a good sign. “All right. All right, step one, you hear where my voice is coming from? There’s a stone it’s kind of coming out of, yeah? I need you to just move that for me, bubula. Just hold it out, maybe move it up and down a bit.”

Silence and breathing for a moment, and then he hears the rustling of movement, the slight jingle of the chain from which her stone of farspeech dangles. “Attagirl, that’s my Lup. Knew you’d ace it. Bring the stone back now?”

Another rustling, and her breathing is closer again. “Hands,” he hears her murmur, soft and shaky, like she’s afraid to even say it.

“Yeah, bubula, yeah. Yeah, you’ve got hands again, isn’t that kickass? I need you to move the other one now. You should have one that doesn’t got a stone in it. Just hold that out in front of you, yeah?”

A beat. “I- I did it,” she murmurs. “Fuck, dude, I- I’ve got hands.”

“Fuck yeah you do, Lulu. Wiggle your fingers for me now?”

Two slow, steady breaths now. Evening more and more. “Done. Done. Holy shit.”

“You’re doin’ awesome, Lulu. We’re at the big one, now. Need you to take that hand and put it _real_ gentle-like on Barry’s chest. Assuming things are all good, you’ll feel all that heartbeat and breathing jazz. Okay?”

One more shuddering breath, and the rustling of movement, then a long, long stretch of silence that makes Taako’s heart crawl into his throat. Finally, he hears a trembling sigh of relief. “He’s- he’s breathing. He’s okay. I… he’s-he’s just sleeping, I guess.”

A tight breath releases from Taako’s own chest. “ _Hell_ yeah. Had a feeling that might be the case, but, uh. Glad you double-checked for me. How you doin’ now, Lulu?”

“...better,” she answers after some reluctance, and there’s a tone to her voice that assures Taako it’s the truth. “Fuck. _Fuck_. I’m sorry, Koko, I didn’t-”

“Shut the fuck up, dumbass. No apologies between twins. That’s, like, the rule.”

She chuckles, still a little hollow but not forced. “Yeah, yeah, got me there. Still, uh, thanks.” A moment’s pause, then she continues, “I, uh- I wanted- I wanted to try meditating again because holy fuck, it’s been forever, but- fuck. Once I got into it, it kinda- it felt like I was floating or, like- outside my body or whatever and I just- I _just_ \--”

“Oh, _Lulu_. Oh, _oh,_  bubula, it’s okay, it’s okay, I get it.” _Fuck_ , some days even he was turned off of meditation by the out-of-body experience it tended to inflict. He could only _imagine_ how thrown Lup must have been at the sensation, after so many years of being quite _literally_ outside her body in the Umbra Staff; after all this time still shakily re-adjusting to a proper elf-body. “You’re sure you’re okay now, Lulu? I can head out now and try to get over there-”

“No, _no_ , don’t be stupid. We’re- we’re way out past Rockport right now. It’d take you fuckin’ days to get all the way out here.”

“Yeah, uh, and I’ll _do that_ , asshole. Just say the word.”

Another snort of laughter. “Naw, dude, I’m good. For real. I’m good now. Just- bad fuckin’ trip there for a bit, that’s all.”

“I’ll fuckin’ say,” he teases, making sure there’s no malice in his tone, only playful ribbing and genuine concern. “Don’t be pullin’ that shit in the middle of the night anymore, okay? Make sure Barry’s around and awake if you’re gonna practice meditating again. Last thing you need is to be all alone if shit goes sideways.”

“Yeah. Yeah, all right, I’ll give you that. _One_ good idea from Taako Tacco, after all these fuckin’ years.”

“Fuck you, I’m full of good ideas.”

“You sure don’t share any of ‘em with me, then.”

“ _Fuck you!_ ”

She laughs again, and he can’t help but join in, and they stay on the line together until not a trace of her previous terror remains.

 

* * *

 

At half-past-five, with sunrise beginning to tease the horizon, Taako decides to make a call of his own.

“Fuckin’- do you know what damn time it is?” The drowsy, grumbling voice of a dwarf answers. Taako simply rolls his eyes at the less-than-friendly greeting, unfazed.

“Yeah, dumbshit, it’s _morning_. Are you seriously still asleep, old man? Thought you needed to be out with the morning dew honoring your plant god or whatever.”

“Hey, fuck you! You don’t fuckin’- you don’t get to tell me how to commune with Pan! I’ll sleep however long I want, asshole!”

“Fine, _fine_ ,” Taako scoffs. “Go ahead and sleep. But don’t fuckin’ blame me when you wake up and your shitty tree arm’s shriveled up and died because you couldn’t be assed to do your damn job, _cleric._ ”

“Eat me! You’re sleepin’ with the reason I even _have_ a tree arm, jackass! How’s about you have your _boy toy_ go out and commune with Pan for me, huh?”

“Oh would you shut the fuck _up_ about that, Kravitz has already apologized to you _so many times_ \--”

“Th’ fuck are you shouting about at five in the damn morning?” A drowsy voice suddenly interrupts, just slightly beside wherever Merle is holding his stone of farspeech. And just like that, everything halts and a sharp, deafening silence takes hold.

...Well. First and foremost, this is the absolute _last_ thing Taako wanted to uncover when he decided to call Merle up. He’s a full-grown dwarf, sure, and has every right to do whatever the hell he wants with his life. Heck, maybe it’d even be good for the old fart to find some solid companionship. But that doesn’t mean Taako wants to _know_ about it. And he especially doesn’t want to find out about it while Merle’s still fucking _in bed_ with the person.

Also, and perhaps even more pressingly, he recognizes Davenport’s voice _pretty fucking well_ by now.

After several agonizingly long moments of silence, during which he’s sure both he and Merle are internally _freaking the fuck out_ little bit, Taako decides the best way to deal with this is to simply… pretend none of it had happened. “...Listen, I’ve gotta get up in, like, half an hour and start cooking for the ingrates at Casa de Taako, and I had the kindness in my _cold, shrivelled heart_ to give you a nice wake-up call before I got to work. So you damn well better appreciate that and have the decency to at least get up and be a fucking cleric for a change, capiche?”

“Like anyone asked you to do that, jackass!” Merle snaps back, catching on to the _this never happened_ vibe with admirable speed. “And you know what? I _am_ gonna go commune with Pan now, but it’s not because you told me to! In fact- in fact, I’m gonna fuckin’- I’ll have him put a plant curse on you, asshole! Then we’ll see who’s laughing!”

“With your record of successful spellcasting? I’m shakin’ in my Fantasy Gucci boots, my guy. Now shut up and get out there before I have to march out your way and magic missile your ancient ass.”

“ _Eat me!_ ” The dwarf repeats, and hangs up before Taako can steal back the final word.

He sighs, leaning back against the headboard, and tosses his stone of farspeech aside. Anyone who didn’t know them might have heard that conversation and think there was some real bad blood between the two of them, that they legitimately disliked each other. But the truth was, Merle was a faithful, guiding presence Taako never had growing up, a paternal figure he couldn’t be more grateful to tease and bicker with. Not that he’d ever fuckin’ tell the dwarf that. Honest confessions of emotion were not a thing either of them _did_. They both showed their love through actions, through little gestures, hidden under layers and layers of barbs and banter.

He idly hopes he and Davenport are making each other happy, even if the thought of Merle mackin’ on _anyone_ kind of makes him gag a little bit.

 

* * *

 

At six-thirty in the morning, with gentle sunlight now pouring through the window, Taako finally decides to begin his day.

Angus shifts and makes a discomforted noise as Taako moves from beneath him, and the elf makes a quick, soothing sound, moving a pillow to replace his own body under the boy’s head. “No need to get up, pumpkin, I’m just going to start breakfast. You sleep in a bit more, all right?”

He blinks drowsily, then makes a small noise of agreement, though he catches Taako in a sleepy hug as he settles back down. He can’t help but crack a warm smile in response, pressing a quick kiss to the boy’s forehead. He then turns his attention to Kravitz, smooching his cheekbone and rubbing his shoulder. “Hey, hotstuff, I’m getting up now. You all good?”

The reaper’s face scrunches up, and he blinks twice and lets out a long yawn, his sharp teeth gleaming in the early-morning light. “Mmfh. Yeh. Yeah, ‘m good,” he grumbles, shifting to go back to sleep almost immediately, though he is, apparently, aware enough to lift an arm so Angus can snuggle in against him. Once the two appear settled - Angus with his head tucked under Kravitz’s chin, Kravitz already back to snoring lightly - Taako readjusts the covers around them and lingers a moment, watching his two favorite boys dozing, before he finally retreats to the kitchen.

Once there, he allows himself a moment of stillness - standing in a sunbeam in his favorite robe and fuzzy slippers, working his long hair into a braid, idly running through breakfast ingredients in his head. He’ll call up Lup again while he cooks, he decides, just to check in on her. Maybe Barry will be up, too, and the two of them can catch up. He imagines Magnus will be true to his word and call him back over breakfast, but at least then he can deflect some of the conversation to Angus, who will be thrilled to hear from ‘Uncle Magnus’. Heck, maybe he’ll _really_ make Angus’ day and call up Lucretia, too, let the two of them chat a bit. (Actually, scratch that, he _definitely_ will be calling up Lucretia, because he’s pretty sure she already knew the hot goss about Davenport and Merle and _how could you not warn a guy, Luce_.)

Now that he’s thinking about it, he should give Carey and Killian a call soon, too. See how Team Sweet Flips is doing, ask about their increasingly massive collection of foster kids. And maybe Avi will be around when Magnus calls back; Taako feels like he only hears about his recent shenanigans secondhand, so it’d be cool to hear about the adventuring and battlewagon-crafting and whatnot from the source.

...it’s an unusual sensation, realizing just how massive his network of friends has become. Not that he’s not a damn likeable guy, that much is obvious, but… but he had so long been used to being on the road, being on his own, having little to no people around him he could trust. Now he has no shortage of trustworthy company, of people who would lay their lives on the line for him, who love and support him unconditionally.

He hates to say it, but fuck. The feeling is mutual.

He cracks a smile, and goes to make breakfast for his family.

**Author's Note:**

> all the Elvish pulled from this site: http://www.grey-company.org/Circle/language/com2elv.htm
> 
> as always I'm @anonymouspuzzler on tumblr if you ever want to swing by! thanks again for all the kind words on my sappy oneshots thus far y'all


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